The Joker was glad to be out of his cell. Oh, they'd all been rather annoyed about the eerie thing he'd done to Greg. Eerie, ear-ey, ha! Hee hee, but they'd come to expect things like that from him now. Maybe he should try and act sane just to throw them off. Now that would be a hoot!
But he was out of his cell, and in one of Arkham's small interview rooms. Out of all the activities in Arkham, there was nothing he loved more than this. The periodical psychiatric evaluation! Oh, The Joker had a great time with these, running circles around those dunces. It was so hilarious, watching them struggle to try and understand him. And he loved making it really hard for them. Once, he'd gone to a library and looked up the textbook definition of a sociopath. Then, when he was sent to Arkham, he just acted exactly like the book said a sociopath would at his psych evaluation. When he broke loose, he went to a different library (he'd slaughtered the entire staff of the last one) and looked up the textbook definition of a schizophrenic. Next time he was caught and sent for a psych evaluation, he acted like a textbook schizo, just to screw with the bigwigs who'd labelled him as a sociopath. Oh, what fun!
The Joker was above being categorized, being understood, especially by these schmucks. He was a whole different kind of crazy! HA HA!
Now, some nerdy young doctor (they brought people in from the outside to run the evaluations) was asking him the mundane questions that were somehow supposed to cast light into the dark, nightmarish void of his mind.
"Okay...uh, Mr. Joker, could you tell me 10 words that begin with P?"
"Why certainly, doctor," said The Joker, "Pies, poison, psychotic, plague, puppies, pestilence, paranoia, pixies, piranhas and...day."
The doctor looked up from his notes.
"Day doesn't start with a P," he said.
"Well, mine usually does," replied the Joker, grinning deviously.
The doctor sighed, scribbling down something in his notes.
"What you writing, doc? Are you writing anything, or just drawing dirty pictures?"
The Joker laughed at the thought, while the doctor blushed. He fumbled through some things on the desk, and brought out a set of drawings.
"Now, Mr. Joker, I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your head when you look at these pictures."
The first picture was a dog.
"Goldfish," said The Joker.
Second picture - a tree.
"Adolf Hitler."
Third picture - a house.
"Me having sex with your mother," he said, nodding at one of the upper windows on the house, "In that room there."
The Joker threw his head back and burst into whooping laughter.
And the Joker didn't stop laughing until the highly entertaining session was brought to a premature end and he was escorted back to his cell. He could never get over how ridiculous those evaluations were. And he was supposed to be the mad one! Maybe he was sane, and it was everyone else that was nuts! Ha ha, now there's a thought!
But as much fun as he was having here, he was beginning to get bored. It was time to move on, get out of this dump, back out to the big wide world. They wanted to look into his head? Well, when you look into the abyss, the abyss looks right back at you baby, ha ha! Yes, he was going to give the world a little taste of what it was like in his head. It would be so much better if the outside world was more like the crazy little world that he ruled in his mind - it would certainly be a lot funnier!